


Lord willing, Let me hold you close.

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Battle Scenes, Comforting eachother, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Kissing, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Mentions of Smut?, POV Multiple, S-Support (Fire Emblem), Somewhat graphic mentions of violence??, Thats why its rated mature, Torture, but not really, hhhhh kill me now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26109766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: He suddenly realized who he had run into. Jeritza. Byleth felt his face flush a bit. It was no secret he had a crush on the taller man, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. The only person who seemingly didn't know was Jeritza himself. That was a relief.“Ah- Couldn’t sleep. And please, call me Byleth.”“Hm. I couldn’t sleep either.” He paused, quirking an eyebrow up a fraction.“Care to duel?”
Relationships: Jeritza von Hrym & My Unit | Byleth, Jeritza von Hrym/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 39





	1. Tumble Down With Me.

**Author's Note:**

> Jesus this is super indulgent, also its my first work, so please be gentle-  
> HHhh anyways TW for kidnapping and brief torture?? I'm going to go pass out now

_(Post-Timeskip: Takes place Before the siege on Arianrhod)_

~Byleth~

Even five _years_ later, Byleth still has nightmares about Jeralt’s death.

He still wakes up in a cold sweat, his throat raw from screaming. Were those tears running down his face, or excess sweat? He couldn't tell. Didn’t matter. He slipped out of bed, pulling on trousers, a shirt, and some boots.

The nightmares kept him up most nights. Most were about his father’s death, but some were of an ancient battle between a woman who eerily resembled Rhea, and a large, hulking man who wielded the Sword of the Creator. Byleth assumed that man was Nemesis. Except, sometimes, it was _him_ in the hulking man's place. Rhea-not-Rhea snarled at him, sword raised. Luckily, those nightmares were tamer.

The moon was full at its peak in the night sky, the stars glittering softly. A cool breeze played with Byleth’s hair, giving him some semblance of peace.

His feet carried him around the monastery, allowing him to get lost in thought as he passed countless ruins. What moon was it? Why did it matter?

_Why can’t I remember this?_

Five years since the war started. Five years since he sided with Edelgard against the church. Five years since he disappeared. _Goddess_ , He had just **left** them! For _Five Years_! But his former students didn’t seem to mind, welcoming him back with open arms and wide smiles. Since then, he fought with them for the Empire.

  
They were so close to the end. This war was almost over. Maybe, just _maybe_ , when it was over, he could-

His train of thought stopped short when he ran into someone else. With a soft grunt, he stumbled back, fighters instincts kicking in like second nature. Which, to be fair, it was. He fumbled for a blade, but came up with nothing. 

_By Sothis_ , Why didn't he carry a blade? It slipped his mind, surely-

“Why are you out so late… Professor?”

He suddenly realized who he had run into. Jeritza. Byleth felt his face flush a bit. It was no secret he had a crush on the taller man, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. The only person who seemingly didn't know was Jeritza himself. That was a relief.

“Ah- Couldn’t sleep. And please, call me Byleth.”

“Hm. I couldn’t sleep either.” He paused, quirking an eyebrow up a fraction. 

“Care to duel?”

The moon seemed to soften Jeritza’s features, his pale eyes sharp and focused. 

_It makes him look nice_.

Byleth smirked, starting to relax. “To the death?” It annoyed Jeritza that he _insisted_ upon teasing him like this, but to Byleth’s defense, Jeritza looks cute when annoyed.

“What? I just wanted to spar…” With a disappointed huff, he turned to leave.

Panic sparked in Byleth’s chest at being left alone with the fragmented nightmares and memories. He didn’t want to end up like Dimitri, poor thing.

He grabbed Jeritza’s sleeve, a bit harder than intended.

“W-wait! I was joking. A spar sounds great right now.”

The man turned back to look at him, which would have made Byleth’s heart flutter, if it was beating. He gave a small smile.

“That was all you needed to say.” The two headed towards the training grounds. Byleth let go of Jeritza’s sleeve out of courtesy, though he didn't really want to. 

Soon enough, they arrived at the training grounds, boots settling onto the worn, dusty floor. 

“Training weapons, or live ones?” Byleth asked. In answer, Jeritza tossed him an iron sword; he caught it by the hilt easily enough. The two were skilled enough to avoid causing major harm. He was a bit on edge, knowing that the Death Knight was _always_ eager to attempt to harm him. Hopefully, Jeritza would contain the demon for this spar. _Hopefully_.

They positioned across from each other, weapons raised as the men entered fighting stances. Jeritza seemed excited, which wasn’t unusual. Seeing him smile, Byleth couldn't help but smirk.

Jeritza charged first, swinging downwards. Byleth parried, slipping to the side and swinging. Jeritza dodged, giving a counterattack. They exchanged like this for a while. Swinging, Counter-Attacking, and Dodging. Occasionally a sword would get a bit too close, leaving the receiver a bit panicked. He noticed how Jeritza’s brow furrowed in concentration, letting sweat build slightly. The moon gave him a nice… glow. No, Byleth absolutely does _not_ have a crush, what an absurd notion, he is simply _observing_ , yes, that's it- 

Suddenly Jeritza rushed at him, leaving Byleth to stumble backwards. It took one second of distraction, which left him falling to the ground. In a moment of panic, he grabbed Jeritza’s arm as a support. All it did was make the other man fall over as well.

Both men hit the ground with a dull _thud_ , Byleth taking the worst of it as Jeritza basically crashed into his chest. Winded, he stared up at the sky, attempting to catch his breath. Jeritza panted against his shoulder, bewildered.

“What… was that?” "I-it was an accident- Suddenly I was falling, and- I tried to grab onto something, and you-you were right there, and then you were falling- and _goddess_ I'm sorry-” He rambled, realizing what position they were in. Very close. Not that this bothers him at all. Nope.

Almost instantly, Jeritza was on his elbows and knees, leaning over Byleth. His knees straddled the smaller man's hips, and the look in his eyes- _By Sothis_ it was completely unfair that Jeritza looked THAT good, _I mean seriously, it's **r** **idiculous** how handsome he is _-

His train of thought short-circuited as Jeritza leaned his forehead against Byleth’s. He became uncomfortably aware of how hot his face was, and _oh goddess_ his trousers were growing tight at the groin-

“This…” Jeritza pursed his lips, glancing down. The smooth rumble of his voice sent a shudder down Byleth’s spine. That-That's normal, right? After all, he has a very nice voice- “This isn’t over.” He finally finished. And just like that, He was on his feet and out of the training grounds. Byleth stared at the sky for a moment, and suddenly he was on his feet, not exactly focused on his motions. He put the swords away and started back for his quarters, unable to get Jeritza’s voice out of his head.

_What did he mean, ‘This isn’t over’? And that look in his eyes-_ Next thing he knew, he refocused to find himself in his quarters, stripping off his shirt and putting on some more comfortable pants, slipping into bed. He couldn’t stop thinking of that moment, replaying it in his head, savoring it.

_Goddess_ , He wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight.


	2. Into Hell, I Will Follow.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth gets kidnapped. Lovely.

_Post-Timeskip: Takes place after the Siege on Arianrhod, Before the Battle of the Tailtean Plains. Flashbacks of Arianrhod.)_

~Byleth~

Byleth remembers flashes of the Siege on Arianrhod. Steel meeting silver, blades meeting throats. He remembers Rodrigue, his face in a war-stained scowl. He remembers jumping in the way of a mage’s fireball to protect Caspar.

_“SHIT- Professor!” Caspar grabbed a small throwing axe and lodged it into the mage’s chest, before turning to the kneeling, scorching Byleth._

_“Cas-caspar-” He managed weakly, feeling blood well amongst his aching burns._

_“Do-Don’t worry. I’ll get a healer, and- and-” Caspar fumbled, clearly panicking._

_Suddenly Caspar was on his feet, fending off an enemy. Byleth coughed, hissing almost instantly at the pain. Where was the Sword? He’s suffered like this, come on, get up, there’s a battle-_

_Suddenly Caspar wasn't there anymore. He was somewhere, alive. Byleth could still hear his battle cries. That's good. He's a good kid. Deserves to live._

_“Well well, look what the Emperor dragged in.” Sneered a cold voice. He could feel them kicking his ribs, his burning ribs. It dragged a painful scream from his throat. Where is the Sword, why cant he fight, get up and Fight, dammit-_

_Suddenly, it went dark._

Byleth woke up in a dungeon, or, what he assumed was a dungeon. His hands were cuffed to chains above his head on the slightly damp stone walls, leaving him to sit on the floor, gritting his teeth subconsciously. He opened his eyes, surveying the small, quite pitiful space. Moss was growing in a corner to his left. To his right was a cell wall, along with a door. The bars were large and obviously were made by a good ironworker, but had been sitting here, ignored, for Sothis knows how long. They left little space, so slipping between the bars was not an option.

He took a look at himself, as best he could. His skin was still covered in burns, but they were less serious. Obviously, a healer had seen to his wounds, albeit not very thoroughly. If he moved his arms in the wrong way, the burns along his muscles would send a sting throughout him.

That's when he heard the click of light feet along the floor, alerting him of someone's arrival before the cell door clicked and swung open.

He glanced up at the person in his cell, and sucked in a sharp breath. Dimitri is standing there, his hair tied back loosely. His features are shadowed, but Byleth can make out a scowl on his face.

“Well, I never thought we would meet like this, _Professor._ ” The way he says that word, dripping in anger, actually sparks fear inside Byleth’s head.

“Likewise, Dimitri.” He forced out the dry words, his tongue feeling caught in his throat. “That is King Dimitri to you, _Rodent._ ” He kicked Byleth’s ribs with his heavy leather boots, forcing a mix between a strangled cry and a cough from him.

“Dimitri, please-” Suddenly the large man was beside him, a hand gripping his chin. He could see his face more clearly. His face was framed with locks of hastily cleaned blond hair, his striking blue eyes full of hatred and pain. _Pain? Why is he in pain?_

“Don't start begging so soon, Rodent. I have plans for you.” Dimitri snarled. “Why- Why don't you just kill me?” Byleth forces himself to calm, asking the question in a smooth tone that so many hate.

Dimitri’s eyes widened a bit, then narrowed. That's when Byleth sees it. The insanity behind them. _So the rumors of the ghosts, are those true?_ The man’s face contorts as he chokes out a laugh, blond hair bobbing slightly. “I am going to kill you, but not yet. Soon. Yes, soon. First, I’ll have you give us the Intel we need on the Empire. Then-” “What if I refuse? Hold my tongue?” Dimitri’s grip tightens, nails digging into skin.

“Then I’ll rip it out of you. Piece by _fucking_ piece.”

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, but his face was emotionless. “And then?” He didn’t need to anger Dimitri more. He needed to survey his surroundings. The clearly insane man leaned forward, chuckling darkly into Byleth’s ear. “Then, I will take you to the battlefield, and slit your throat in front of your beloved allies. I will watch as the life drains from you, drawing the first blood. I will _savor_ the cries of your friends, until they _die. Slowly. Painfully._ ”

He’s clearly baiting a reaction. Byleth doesn't give it to him. Unsatisfied, he leaves the cell, closing and locking the door. Byleth hears him walk back to where he came from.

~Jeritza~

It has been a week since Byleth disappeared. One whole week.

And the entire monastery was _panicking_.

Jeritza took it the worst, but he tried not to let it show. The others, though, weren’t so hidden with their feelings.

Edelgard was in a furious rage, and Hubert was in distress. Ferdinand was insistent that they march to the Kingdom _NOW_ , to take revenge, and Jeritza was inclined to agree. Caspar was absolutely heartbroken, convinced it was his fault because he had left the Professors side for a _second_ and yet when he returned he was _gone and it was his fault_ -

Petra was focused on helping Caspar.

Linhardt and Dorothea were working on a magical tracking spell, using the Sword of The Creator as a starting point. Caspar had managed to find it untouched on the battlefield. Bernadetta helped them. Mercedes was often found praying, on the verge of tears. Lysithea focused on devouring cake.

Jeritza took out his emotions in different ways. Meaning, he destroyed countless training dummies and punched the walls of his quarters countless times. He’s woken up from nightmares with tears brimming his eyes, making choked sounds as visions of Byleth’s death tormented him. He doesn't know _why_ they affect him so much. The Death Knight is so desperate to have this fated duel, to kill and be killed, and he himself loves to watch the man fight. But, with his disappearance, he finally realized just how _much_ he cared about Byleth.

Just how much he cared about his simple, yet toned features, his minty green hair and grass green eyes. The small, but warm smile he gives Jeritza, how his eyes light up when Jeritza accepts his offer for tea. How he laughs softly at Caspar’s _terrible_ jokes, humoring the rowdy warrior. The way his nose scrunches in focus when he spars, the small beads of sweat that run down his face, his neck, soaking into his shirt. Making it stick to his skin, giving his lean but well-strung muscles some much needed attention. The way Byleth’s ears turn a light red when Jeritza gives him an offset glance-

_Goddess_ , When did he start paying this much attention to the Professor? As he pondered this, his thoughts drifted to, well, less than _appropriate_ thoughts. Suddenly there was a knock at the door of his quarters, startling him. Before he could respond, his door flew open to reveal a very twitchy Edelgard. “Edelgard? What-”

“We know where the Professor is. We are to march tonight.”

He was off the chair he was sitting on, on his feet quicker than he could fully process, throwing on the rest of his garb, donning his armor, and then he was off to the stables, muttering.

_Please let him be safe. Please._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame my friend for making me add the 'One gets kidnapped or injured, etc, and the other one goes ballistic' trope. I love it though-


	3. Watch Me Bleed, Beloved.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some torture details, and marching! Woo!  
> (help)

_ (Post-Timeskip: Takes place during the march to the Tailtean Plains, and in Faerghus.) _

~Jeritza~

They were approaching the Tailtean Plains, where scouts had reported an incoming Kingdom army. Rain had started to fall. Not that he cared. But Mercedes didn't seem as kind to the change in weather, attempting not to get her feet too dirty. So, Jeritza had lifted her onto his horse, at least until they started battle.

The troops fell into easy formations. In the front was Edelgard and her former classmates. Just behind them was Jeritza, and behind him were lines of soldiers, marching steadily.

The rain made it hard to see, and harder to march. Mud and grass stuck to the feet of the soldiers and the hooves of the mounts.

They arrived, and fell still, watching the opposing army march over a hill, waving a Kingdom banner.

Dimitri was at the lead, mounted on a horse. His hero's relic, Areadbhar glowing in his hands. The army stopped, and the two opposing forces stared at each other whilst the rain kept pouring day. That’s when Dimitri did something… unexpected.

He slid off his mount, dragging someone with him by the hair. He forced them to kneel, holding Areadbhar to their throat. That's when a choked cry came from Edelgard.

" _ **Professor?!**_ "

~Byleth~

The few weeks at Fhirdiad were torture. Well, they were meant to be.

Byleth was given a small cup of water every other day. He only got one meal a week, and it was a very meager one. Countless people, Including Dimitri, Catherine, and Cyril came to take their piece of him. From asking questions to needless torture, they made sure his days were full of pain.

He spent the time not being tortured or interrogated focusing on fond memories. They helped him keep a calm demeanor. 

Memories of teaching the students, back when the academy wasn't run down and the land wasn’t torn by war.  Memories of fighting with his father and the Blade Breakers. Memories of quiet moments with varying people sipping tea and sharing gossip.  Memories of the ball, slipping away to breathe.

Memories of  _ Jeritza _ . The way his hair hung over his face, framing his features. The sharp edges of his jaw, the way he gained an absolutely feral and  _ incredibly hot _ look in his eyes when he fought. Memories of the sparring session a mere week or two before Byleth was kidnapped.  Then someone new came in to question him. They kicked at his growing bruises when he gave them absolutely  _ bullshit _ answers. Then someone else came with a small tray. Was it meal day already? Time was strange here, where the chill of Faerghus seeped into Byleth’s cell, his skin, into anything it could.

Soon, though, he was being dragged to the outside. To an encampment full of anxious soldiers. Byleth  _ swears _ he saw Rhea somewhere in the crowds. Suddenly he was left in Dimitri’s care, which meant in danger. Well, in more danger than anywhere else.

Dimitri grasped his throat with tight fingers, his nails digging into the skin.  “It seems the time has come for you to die, Rodent.”

“I prefer Byleth.” He answered softly, as most of his air was getting cut off. His vision started to slowly blacken around the edges.

Dimitri answered by letting go of his throat, and punching him in the nose. Byleth fell backwards with a strangled gasp, coughing. His nose ached, and he felt blood come from it. Was it broken? Knowing Dimitri, most likely.

“I don’t recall asking,  _ Rodent _ .”

He lifted himself to his feet, wobbling a bit. He attempted to straighten up. I n an instant Dimitri was gripping his mint hair with calloused, dirty fingers, yanking him onto a horse. Not feeling like getting anything else broken, Byleth simply complied.

Dimitri hopped up in front of him on the steed, making the horse trot to the front of gathering troops.  “Men! Today we march against the Empire!” A round of cheers.  “Many of you will fall today, but know that you will fall a true knight; in honor of your home, in honor of the ending of this war!”

More cheers. How could they be proud of this? Be proud to  _ die _ ?

Instead of focusing on the words Dimitri was shouting to his troops, he focused on his still bleeding nose. Using a healing spell to stop the blood, to crack it painfully into place. He wiped off most of the blood with a piece of his worse for wear shirt.

Soon enough, they began to march. Byleth didn’t pay attention to the ride, instead drowning his growing fear with memories. This time, they weren’t his memories. They were the fragmented memories of Sothis. She must have given those to him, along with her power.  Flashes of large, advanced pieces of technology and magic. Whispers of a song that is so painfully  _ familiar _ . Small beings that have stunning green eyes and hair. War. Blood. Falling asleep with a sacrifice, waking up in the mind of a child.

He realizes that child must be him. It’s flashes, but the scenes leading up to that fateful encounter in Remire- he remembers them all.  Then there’s rain. And lots of it. He hears shouting. Something one of the scouts says brings him back to reality.  “ _ It’s the Empire! They’ve marched onto the plains! _ ”

The- The Empire? That must mean Edelgard and the others- They’ve come to fight. Were they searching for him? Did it matter? What is he thinking, he should matter, shouldn't he?  _ Is Jeritza there? _

That’s when the marching halts, and he’s being dragged off the horse by his hair. That  _ hurts _ , dammit- He’s forced onto his knees, feels the lance at his throat as his head is tilted back-  Then there is a cry, breaking above the noise of the rain. He feels himself stiffen as he recognizes the voice, the tone.

“ **_Professor?!_ ** ”


	4. Now We Fight, Forever More.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just the Tailtean plains fight, I felt like violence.

_ (Post-Timeskip: Takes place during the Battle of the Tailtean Plains.) _

~Byleth~

Edelgard’s cry was what set him off. Byleth’s instincts took over and suddenly he was struggling, attempting to kick at Dimitri, trying to rip himself from the man’s grasp. Dimitri held him tighter, holding the lance closer to his throat. He swears it began to lightly break the skin.

He was dimly aware of war cries coming from the Empire’s army, the thud of boots as they began to advance. Areadbhar dug deeper into his neck. He panicked, letting loose a guttural scream of fear. He was going to die here. He choked on something. Blood? Oh  _ Goddess _ \- He was going to die in front of his friends, he was going to become another lifeless corpse, he couldn't, he still had things to do, people to protect,  _ I need to survive this war- Please- _

Then something crackling louder then an explosion whizzed past his ears, something that singed the tips of his hair- and Dimitri’s presence was gone, just like that. Areadbhar dropped to the ground. He lurched forward, hands holding his throat, which had a decent cut, dripping blood steadily. Tears welled up painfully in his eyes as he coughed in relief. 

Byleth was dimly aware of the battle waging around him, screams amongst the clashing of metal and footfall of soldiers.

~Jeritza~

Jeritza’s throat closed in panic, his muscles clenching as he  _ felt _ the Death Knight try to fight his way to the surface, to take control of Jeritza, to steer the vessel. He wouldn’t let him. Not now.

Just after Edelgard’s cry, the figure Dimitri was holding, who he can now identify as the Profess- no,  _ Byleth _ start to struggle and writhe in fear. Fear? Anger? He couldn't tell. He was gripping his lance too hard, clenching his teeth in an attempt to stay still.

Mercedes gasped in shock, sliding off the horse. “Oh Emile- The Professor, we have to-”

Then Edelgard screamed a war cry, marching forward as the rage  _ poured _ from her.

“ **_See that HE does not make it out of this alive!_ ** ”

The troops started forward with rallying calls, cries of outrage. Jeritza had his steed galloping towards the Kingdom Army in an instant. His muscles seemed to relax as he felt himself slip. The Death Knight started to take over the vessel, almost in rage.

_ No, no- I have to save him- stop-  _ **_Let Me Help Him-_ **

He slipped.

~Edelgard~

Edelgard proceeded to tear into the opponent, too blinded by rage and panic to see who she was striking at. Hubert was at her side, flinging magic into the chaos. Caspar was screaming at an axe-wielding opponent. Petra was slipping between enemies, getting stabbing one before going to the next.

Mercedes and Linhardt were weaving amongst the chaos, trying to help the injured soldiers as quick as they could. Dorothea and Ferdinand were protecting them from mounted units.

Bernadetta was somewhere on the edge, sniping at enemies with deadly accuracy. Lysithea was using Dark Spikes on a heavily armored knight.

Then she spotted Jeritza, a hand raised, crackling with something. She realized it was a thunder spell. But where was he aiming- Oh.

_ Oh. _

She managed to follow the spell to Dimitri, who got blown back by it. How it reached that far, she didn't know. Her feet started to run towards where the Professor was curled onto the ground, visibly shaking. 

Edelgard knelt beside him, panting slightly. “Professor! Are you alright?”

The Professor looked up at her feebly, tears lining his eyes. The sight filled her with familiar memories. His face had pale bruises on it, his worn shirt riddled with dried blood stains and holes which revealed multiple barely healed scars.

Suddenly there was a large hulking figure, holding Areadbhar in a tight grip. Edelgard stood, wielding Aymr and shifting to a fighting stance. In her peripheral vision, Linhardt grasped the Professor and warped him to, hopefully, a safe distance away to see a healer. Good.

Dimitri snarled, his face contorted into a truly insane sort of anger. “ _ Edelgard _ .”

“Hello, Dimitri.” 

“You will  _ pay _ for what you’ve done. The dead will-”

Edelgard sighed, lifting her axe. “Have their tribute? You’ve said this before, Dima.”

And then they clashed.

~Death Knight/Jeritza~

The battle went by in flashes. Knocking Dimitri down, then turning his scythe on multiple poor soldiers. Finding Linhardt tending to a shaking Byleth. Defending the two from would-be opponents, watching the blood run off his scythe in the rain. 

Then the church showed up. It only got more bloody from there.

That was fine with him. More souls to reap.

It became difficult when the crowds thinned, though. Because then Rhea- no, Seiros- spotted Byleth. Her pupils seemed to shrink as her face turned into a scowl. He prepared to fend her off with his life, the rain pounding against his armor.

Then a group consisting of Petra, Dorothea, Edelgard and Caspar intercepted her.

They managed to win the battle, finishing off Dimitri and forcing Rhea-  _ Seiros _ \- and the church to retreat. That’s when Jeritza surfaced again, gripping his Scythe shakily as his mount whinnied in defiance to the weather.

Suddenly he slid off his mount and kneeled beside Byleth, putting a hand on the back of his head, instinctively stroking his hair. The other man flinched at first, but quickly leaned into the touch when he realized who it was. He fought back a sob-  _ where did that come from? _

Byleth leaned against him, clutching Jeritza’s armor as his shoulders shook a bit.

“I'm sorry- I didn’t mean to get- This was my fault- I’m sorry, I'm  _ sorry- _ ” Byleth muttered softly, gripping Jeritza.

“I’m here now, there’s nothing to be sorry about.” He responded softly, holding his shaking form close.


	5. Hold Me, For I Ache.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some marching, and a miniature, semi-smutty make out scene. Also, Fluff!

_ (Post-Timeskip: Takes place just before the final fight in Fhirdiad, during the march.) _

~Byleth~

When they had set up camp to heal the wounded, Byleth got some armor and weapons. The Sword of the Creator was returned to him as well, by Caspar.

“Thank you.” He dipped his head, the hilt familiar in his hands.  “Your welcome.” Caspar took a shaky breath. “Professor, I’m sorry for what happened in Arianrhod-”

“Just Byleth, please. And you don't have to apologize. It wasn't your fault.”

“B-but, I left you,  _ alone _ , and-”  “What’s done is done, Caspar. Let’s focus on the future.” Byleth interrupted, the memories making him uncomfortable. Caspar nodded, leaving the tent.

The war was almost over. Just one more battle. Kill Rhea, and it's over. 

He reached inside a small leather pouch, bringing out a silver ring inscribed with gemstones. 

‘ _ One day, I hope you’ll give this ring to someone you love as well as I love her. _ ’

There was only one person who fit that description.  **_Jeritza._ **

Suddenly the entrance to his tent opened, and in walked... Jeritza. 

“Are you preparing?”  Byleth nearly jumped out of his skin, stuffing the ring back in the pouch.

“Ah-! Yes- Yes I am. Nearly done. You?” " I am finished, yes. I came to visit you.”

Byleth felt his face flush. “Aw, little old me?” He stood up, turning to face Jeritza. The taller man was now by his side. He felt a hand gently rest on the small of his back; he leaned into the touch.

“I was… very worried. When you were… gone.” Jeritza’s voice filled with guilt. Byleth turned to him, grasping his face in his hands. His skin was soft. Very soft.  _ Goddess _ he could stay like this forever-

“What… are you-” Before he could finish, Byleth pulled him down into a kiss. Jeritza’s face turned red before his eyes closed, kissing back. The two stood there for a bit, locked in a soft embrace. Then Byleth felt Jeritza nip at his lower lip. He gasped for a moment, his mouth opening slightly. Jeritza took this opportunity and deepened the kiss. 

Byleth made a small sound in his throat, hands wrapping around his neck. A hand curled around his waist, another in his hair. Jeritza had leaned him against the cot, now kissing at Byleth’s jaw, and down the smooth skin of his neck.  Jeritza kissed a bite to a soft spot on his neck, sending a spark of pleasure through Byleth, coaxing a soft moan out of him. He covered his mouth, shuddering somewhat as Jeritza sucked marks onto his skin. Then he lifted his head, pressing their foreheads together.

“Jeritza- I missed you.” Byleth nuzzled his head into the crook of the man’s neck, relaxing. A hand ran through his hair. 

“I missed you as well.” 

They stood like this for a short while, just holding each other. Then a rallying call ran throughout the encampment, startling them both. It’s time to march. I t almost made Byleth sad when Jeritza let go of him, straightening himself.

“Shall we go?”

“Yes, let’s.”

~Jeritza~

The march was mostly silent. He had offered Byleth a ride on his horse; Byleth accepted. Chatter ran amongst the former students in front of them. Dorothea turned a bit to face Jeritza, smiling.

“Jeritza, there is a rumor going around about you. Caspar’s too scared to ask you, so I will.”  “Ask me what?”

“Are you and the Professor  _ courting _ ?”

He heard Byleth sputter behind him as his face flushed somewhat.

“Wh-”

“ _ DorotheA- _ ” The man sputtered. She giggled, hand over her mouth. 

“Ah, that's all the confirmation I needed. Thank you, gentlemen~!”  Edelgard piped up. “Stop teasing them.”

“But  _ Edie _ -”

“Return to marching.”

It was obvious that the Emperor was in on it, as her tone was light. J eritza and Byleth kept silent, both of them flustered. More chatter. Someone punched Caspar on the back of his head, causing Jeritza to snicker.

“Ow- Jeritza! I thought you cared about me!” Another punch.

“Dorothea, that  _ hurts _ -” He was grinning, despite his wounded act.  The castle of Fhirdiad loomed on the horizon.

“We’re almost there.” Edelgard said solemnly. " We can attain the victory!” Petra chirped happily.

The others cheered happily, trying to make light of the situation.  Byleth clung closer to Jeritza. Whether he was comforting him or using him as a brace, he couldn't tell.

For now, Jeritza just focused on the march forward.


	6. This Strange Emotion...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! This is just the S-support scene with some additions, because i'm a fucking sucker for romance. Sue me.

_(Post-Timeskip: Takes place after the Empire wins the war in Crimson Flower, during the fight against the Agarthans. It's the S-support scene, sue me.)_

~Byleth~

“I have yet to claim my moment to kill you, it would seem.”

“Pfft, You won’t be killing me.”

Byleth ran his sword through an agarthan, adding another body to the growing pile.

“Ah, or will I?” Jeritza decapitated a soldier. Byleth only caught the end of his sentence. “-battle is the one thing that puts blood in my veins.”

“Funny, is it not? That we should fight toward the same end, only to vanquish one another in time.”

Byleth parried an arrow. “You're being prophetic again.” That got a laugh from the man by his side. He was… smiling.

“It’s rare to see you smile.” 

“I do not quite know how to articulate these…” Another dead agarthan.

“Curious feelings.”

“I think it could be described as…”

“Contentment?” Byleth piped up. Jeritza gave a small nod. “Perhaps it stems from discovering a creature such as you...”

A sneaky bastard tried to stab Byleth from the back. Sadly, he was the one who got stabbed. “All this time, I had determined it was the Death Knight that was drawn to you. Yet…”

“Oh? Quite a speech.” He teased. The enemies were thinning.

“Yet, fighting alongside you-” He didn't quite hear the rest as an agarthan screamed painfully. “-you are the only being who truly means anything to me.”

His face flushed somewhat.

“Once we exterminate the rats lurking below ground-” 

“-and all of this madness is settled…” Byleth finished for him.

There were only a few left.

“Once that finally happens, all of this shall be long forgotten. Then we shall indulge in the finer things… Together.”

Byleth’s newly revived heart fluttered. He still wasn’t used to it… well, beating.

“Until that day comes, you must survive.” He commented.

“Indeed.” Jeritza sighed.

“I have abandoned all that I am. My true name, whatever remains of my past…”

“Well, you are… you, last time I checked.”

“Let me finish.”

Byleth chuckled. “Of course.”

“But now, with the chance to fight you… It is my only reason for existing.”

That made Byleth freeze for a second.

_Me? He- He’s staying around for me?_

“I finally understand. It is _you alone_ who can slay the demon inside of me… The Death Knight…”

“Is this strange feeling rising up within me… Is this what is called… _love_?”

Byleth nearly tripped, but Jeritza caught him.

“I- I feel the same way.” He responded, heart pounding in his chest.

“That- pleases me.

Let us away then. Beyond these shadows that we have dwelt in for so long.”

The last agarthan in this base fell to his sword.

“To the very depths of hell, I will tumble down with you.”

The two looked at each other. Jeritza was smiling softly, and Byleth was grinning like a child as he got pulled in for a kiss.

Together. That sounds nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it to the end, Thanks for reading! Now you can go wash out your eyes with holy water. And bleach.


End file.
